Mr Minister ( Part I )

Mister Minister ( part I ) Scene of wicked enterprise Closet of the depraved instigating safe fear Patent black rides up to a set of St Tropez thighs Bargain red stripe wallpaper, rougher than the beer Perpetuating malice of thought, what the hell am I to do if caught? What of the vile plebs? and then of course my wife? What of the chief whip? Ha! looks like his mistress’s on the stage Would that they might comprehend the strain of constituency life Folly! insisting ministers must all be blandly beige Tea towel holder in front of me recedes between walnut cheeks Sipping only ice altered glen something, my tie gone, top buttons free toying with her split vallum pent up lust inside peeks Issues of state abandoned, my loins ablaze, Oh! heaven help me! Stretched out timid as the whore picks up her skimpy skirt She watched my twitching face, she knows of my translucent viscous shame But what consequence the derision of a slut born in the dirt Her voice, without my cash remains pathetically lame Power of the Old Boys would put her in her place Dipped in the river by Chatham, aught but old carpet to wear Lapping cold waters abound her, trickling up her pretty made up face Dipping below the water line, I’d pay plod not to care cheaper though are bribes at source toward her cotton pickin' grasping fingers green plastic card normally reserved for when plus fours and pastels, a leisurely golf round, guilt's bubbling spring suppressed, oiled with trebles galore for wanton gluttonies costly stride may insight furore should statements featuring lap dancers dyed black indelible proof of wickedness partitioned grounds for divorce espied by my permanent mistress governor of all creation, keeper of limitless resource scrutinising retro whereabouts interrogation followed similar patterns per monthly cycle meaning first fortnight doubts and wretched worry pull strings connected to bells that fear Discovery, a tune beaten out by skilled campanologist's clear cut evidence of infidelities clout My head into thinking far too fast already concentrate on the taxi back to the grace & favour well exercised heart back to a steady pace, enhanced but by worry by my misses finger wag, leaves me no braver. Part II is being written.